


maybe the seventy-fifth time is a charm.

by writlings



Series: Raising the Bar [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: AU, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Mention of alcohol, bar au, implied budding romance, modern day AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 16:14:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10312136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writlings/pseuds/writlings
Summary: Where Allura finally manages to get a break from her streak of bad luck. Maybe.





	

Soft music played, the lights had dimmed, the crowd was thinning and Hunk was contentedly wiping his precious wine glasses behind the counter.

It had been a slow day with barely any customers, just the way Hunk liked it, even if it probably hurt his cash register.

It didn’t bother him much though, because in three, two, one–

Ah, there she was.

Hunk looked away from his watch to see a leggy lass with the most unbecoming scowl on her otherwise pretty face trooped into the bar with a dark cloud on her head, contrasting her fluffy light hair.

She plopped herself onto one of the bar stools and gave Hunk a dark look as if daring him to speak.

And speak he did.

“Number 74?” he asked nonchalantly, like he was asking her about the weather.

“Number 74,” affirmed Allura, slumping on to the bar counter with a moan. She poked a narrowed eye from her arms and titled her head, showing the deep frown which had been hidden.

“I wish you’d stop keeping count, you know.” She turned her head back into the nest she had created, blocking Hunk from sight once again.

Hunk chuckled and set down the last glass. He spread his arms over the counter and fixed a sly gaze at Allura.

But he said nothing and just passed along a mug of beer. The usual.  _Her_  usual. How Hunk wished she would try a strawberry daiquiri or a lemon martini for once. But no, Allura was the most obstinate person he’d ever met. The maximum he’d managed to make her experiment with was whiskey. And there too, she’d stick to neat and occasionally on the rocks.

She was  _so_ not a bartender’s delight.

Allura got up and with her chin still resting on the counter, she stared at it.

“Why are all men such  _morons_?” She let out a sigh as she remembered the disastrous date from earlier. Her eyes followed the tiny bubbles in her mug. Hunk smiled at her and rolled his eyes.

“Well maybe you aren’t looking in the right places,” he said, before bending down to reach for a wiping cloth.

“Well  _maybe_ if you had more sales, you’d have more customers and I’d find someone already,” Allura said dryly. She unstuck her cheek from the counter and grasped the cold mug.

“Hey! Don’t diss the bar!” Hunk said heatedly. How could she! Such blasphemy.

“Well, your place  _is_  a bit pathetic, no offense, Hunk,” Allura muttered, finally taking a swig of her beer. Hunk huffed at that and started wiping the counter vigorously, half in an attempt to shake off the sacrilegious comment and half to calm himself down.

“Full offense taken. So you’re saying it’s my fault?” Hunk asked in an annoyed tone as he tossed the cloth back under.

“Yep. Considering you get most of your sales through me, it’s a wonder that your bar is still up and running,” said Allura snidely, not looking at Hunk, the dark cloud hanging above her head ever-growing.

Hunk closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. He pinched his forehead and sighed exasperatedly.

“With the way you talk, no one would believe you’re an heiress. This is why all your dates get ruined.” He regretted the words the moment they left his lips.

“Well better that than them clinging onto me for that fact,” Allura said, without missing a beat.

And with that silence enveloped them once again. Just like it used to before. Hunk did not continue because he knew why Allura was being so testy.

It made him angry, but it secretly relieved him too. Why? He wasn’t too sure of that himself. Meanwhile, Allura emptied her beer and slammed the mug back on to the counter.

“Ugh. Maybe I’m doomed to be an old maid.” Allura moaned, slumping back into her “nest” position. Hunk rolled his eyes at her antics.

“Nonsense,” he said briskly, collecting her beer mug. “You’re just way too good for those losers, that’s all.”

“You think so?” she looked up at him, blue eyes shining with undisguised hope in them. Hunk cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Yeah. Er, I mean, fix your attitude and that’ll go a long way, you know.” He continued wiping the counter to combat the weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Gee, thanks for being such a great help,” Allura said snarkily, turning away from him again. Hunk smirked suddenly and set down the now clean mug in his hands.

“What. You can’t do it?” he said slyly. He leaned low onto the counter with both arms supporting his frame as he casually glanced directly into that flabbergasted face of hers.

Allura steeled herself. She slammed her palm hard on the counter.

“ _Fine_. You. Me. Tomorrow night, 8 o’ clock. Vrepit Sal’s.” And with that, Hunk’s jaw slackened as she punctuated each word with a jab at his chest.

“Hey! Wait a minu–” But his spluttering got interrupted as Allura stood up and craned over the counter to fix Hunk with an even more determined stare, their faces just millimetres away from touching.

“What. You scared?” It was Allura’s turn to smirk at the incredulous look on his face. Yes, he had definitely been caught off guard with that. After a couple of moments, which seemed like hours, Hunk coughed and straightened up.

“Fine, since you’re so, er,  _desperate_ , just to prove I’m right, I’ll go.” Hunk folded his arms and looked away in mild embarrassment.

She smiled brightly, disregarding the unnecessary parts in his answer, grabbed her bag and patted down her dress.

“Great! I’ll see you then~!” And she sauntered away, making it all the way to the door before turning back.

Hunk smiled. And Allura smiled back. And with the soft chime of the door, she was gone.

Hunk turned back to find more glasses to wipe. 

She riled him up with her less-than-perfect attitude and her jibes and her quips. She guzzled beer in the most unappealing way and simply refused to try nicer things more befitting her class, as she called it. She shouted and she moaned about her endless blind dates and she insulted The Bar, albeit jokingly (or so he hoped).

But even so, at the end of the day, something always managed to draw him to her unfailingly. Just like the first time.

And it was vice versa too. Because why else would she end up there all the time? That woman took the meaning of regular to a whole new level.

… Wait. She hadn’t paid him.  _Again._ Quiznak. At this rate, the bar would definitely be shut down.

Hunk chuckled in spite of himself, as he poured himself some whiskey.

It may have been a slow day, but nevertheless, a good one. Even more so than usual.

And so, the seventy-fifth time was definitely a charm.


End file.
